Writing a friendly letter

Dear Friends, 

As you can SEE all is well

I post these pictures to you, not to gloat, nor to conjure jealousy; but so you can see that all is well with my spirit. You know how much mountains mean to me. 

Today, I am enjoying an unfettered day, which is different than a day off or a free day.  Unfettered days can be busy, and I have accomplished a lot mentally, spiritually, and physically.

 These days, I get a real workout just going up and down three flights of stairs.  That means my walks are taken for the sheer pleasure of inhaling sea air and strolling on the beach.  Very uplifting. 

 Yesterday, I trained 9:00 A.M. to 5:00 P.M.  Wednesday was the same.  Tuesday was my first day of training and I spent all day Monday with son Kevin, DIL Sarah, and the four grandkids. It was lovely to sight-see in Seattle with them.  I treasure my children and grandchildren.

I have a similar picture of Andrea and Philip, in this very same spot, 18 years ago.

 Today, I woke in the company of my thoughts and worked through a number of things before rising.  As my tea and oatmeal heated, I grated three zucchini, grown in my cousin’s garden, and sliced some yellow summer squash to set aside for dinner.  Three trays of green tomatoes are slowing changing color on the granite kitchen window sill.  I have been eating sautéed veggies with a sprinkling of bacon or cheese for most meals.  The owners of the house in which I am rooming (my cousin and his wife) are touring England and I am luxuriating in the solitude of a quality, well-appointed mini-mansion. I am also scoping out the neighborhood for rooms to rent as I take my near daily walks.  

As seen from my window

 This morning the sun was shining brilliantly and I treated myself to a walk to Saltwater Park and a stroll along Richmond Beach,

On a sunny day

snapping a bunch of pictures.  On my return to the house I enjoyed a shower, a pedicure, arranged a few things, and then walked 12 blocks to the Market to buy flour and sugar and eggs (to go with the grated zucchini, don’t you know).  A canvass Core Knowledge bag with shoulder straps is ideal for such a trip to market.

 One of my friends from the dessert of Colorado commented that I will probably meet a lot of interesting folks in Seattle, and she is right.  Seattle is an interesting blend of the Wild West and New England.  I am looking forward to my impending job of checking groceries at Safeway.  Not only will it be nice to make a living, I can’t think of a better way to get to know the community.

 Please write soon.  I long to hear your news.  I am only as far away as your laptop or computer keyboard, so don’t be a stranger.  You have enriched my life.

 Time for me to close now, and walk to the library to post this – also to pick up a good read:  The Shape of Mercy, by Susan Meissner – and a Brian McLaren book.

A Parable about major surgery and marriage

A dearly loved one was in a coma, and had lain that way for months, unresponsive to medical intervention and ministrations of close family members. After much consultation, the doctors said it appeared the immediate family had a choice to make: Leave the beloved on all invasive support systems, in which case death was inevitable, but might take an indefinite amount of time, maybe years. Or, detach life support systems and stand by and comfort as the loved one passed through the valley of the shadow. Both doctors called in for consultation freely attested they had seen occasional patients rally and live full lives after removal of life support. The next of kin saw a ray of hope in this possibility of miraculous recovery.

The next of kin nodded tearfully and said, “I see the plug has to be pulled.  I will stand by and comfort if this is the end, or I will stand firm and cheer while the beloved gains strength if this is a rally.” 

Then began other family members to bicker and to say, “What do you think you are doing?  This never works. Put the plug back in, the doctors do not know what they are talking about.”

The compassionate doctors, finding that another family member continued to slip in during the night and tamper with the equipment; and seeing that the next of kin did not have the strength to withstand the clamor of the ignorant; consulted once more with the immediate family.

“We are agreed,” the physicians said, “that the best and least invasive course of action is to pull the plug and to nurture the patient toward strength if that becomes possible.  We are also agreed that to simply leave the patient on complete support is sure death. We recommend, that you move the patient from ICU to a convalescent center. There is one other medical option, quite aggressive and the odds are 50-50. It involves major surgery.”

What think you that the next of kin will decide?  And if the next of kin opts for 50-50 surgery in the hope of saving the beloved and the beloved dies, what then will the other family members say? Will they not blame the next of kin for killing the beloved? And will not the next of kin be assaulted from time to time with deep depression and doubt?

And can the acceptance of blame or all the guilt in the world bring back the dead?

Hear me now; the beloved is my marriage. I am the next of kin who took responsibility to sign for major surgery. My marriage is dead. All the blame and guilt and acceptance of responsibility in the world cannot bring it back. Will I forgive and grieve and move forward into full health, or will I hold on to my shame and insist there is no solace, forever?

Children’s Fiction for Autumn Reading

Autumn is here.  Leaves are beginning to change color and fall.  It’s that kind  of weather again.  Time for baking cookies, for lighting the fireplace.  Time to curl up with a mug of apple cider or hot chocolate and a good book.  Do you read good books to your children?  Do your children like to read chapter books for themselves?  Now is the time to order The Pancake Cat for your cozy times. The Pancake Cat is available online, or by special order from your favorite local bookstore.  In honor of the changing of the season, here is my favorite chapter for free.  You can also read chapter one at Xlibris.

Chapter 18

Showdown

Jim Deckert’s dog was loose. How he got out was a mystery. The Deckerts had installed a five foot chain link fence two years ago when they moved in. Chain link was a little unusual in a neighborhood where everyone seemed to prefer the appearance of six foot wood slats. The best thing about chain link was that Andrea could see right through the Deckert’s yard into Mrs. Garcia’s yard.  This morning there was no need to see into other yards. Frank, the dog, was free. Did some sixth sense whisper to him that cranky Mr. Hinkman was in Houston visiting his daughter? Never mind how he had won his independence; Frank was now trotting up the alley, making detours into   every yard with an open driveway gate.  Andrea and Philip were eating oatmeal, so it wasn’t Saturday. Gracie was on the patio happily consuming a pancake, leftover from a few days before.

“Frank’s playing in the alley,” chortled Philip.

“Maybe he doesn’t have school today,” said Daddy as he came into the room and grabbed the car keys.  A burst of laughter came from the table.

“Hurry Andrea or you’ll be late for school,” called Mom from the other room.

“Frank doesn’t have school today,” choked Andrea.

“Well, middle school isn’t always in session on the same days as your school. Maybe Frank’s school is having a teacher work day,” reasoned Dad.

Andrea and Philip laughed helplessly.

“Middle school is in session today, Daddy,” said Andrea, “Tex left 30 minutes ago.”

“Tex? Is that the name of the Furwakawa boy? Where did he get a name like Tex? Frank sounds like a nice name for a neighbor boy.”

“Frank is a dog,” said Philip. “Here he comes.”

Frank trotted in the gate and up the cement drive without breaking pace. He trotted straight toward Gracie. Gracie was so intent on the last half of pancake he did not notice Frank’s approach until it was too late.

Frank barked. Gracie startled and ran. Frank chased him across the yard and up the nearest tree. Losing interest, the dog returned to polish off the pancake. Apparently Gracie never forgot who it was that cost him the pancake. He stayed hidden the remainder of the day, biding his time. Next day, and the next, Frank was safely behind locked gates. On the third day Gracie made his move. He circled Frank’s yard. He came close to the fence. Staying about six inches from the chain link, he meowed. Frank bounded to the fence barking. Gracie ran the length of the yard with Frank in pursuit on the other side of the fence. He turned at the corner and ran back. Finding Frank could not get to him, he added a grand finale.

Leaping high up on the fence, he clung there, spread eagle, three inches out of Frank’s reach. Gracie hissed and meowed, taunting Frank. Frank barked and yelped and circled the yard in a frenzy. Finally Jim Deckert came out and called his dog inside. Gracie hung a few moments longer, then dropped gracefully to the ground and sauntered off, satisfied.

A tale of coveting

It was a most subtle kind of covetousness, because it did not have to do with houses or lands or someone’s wife, but, rather with someone’s station in life.  It had to do with the God-given gifts of others; their Jacob have I loved and Esau have I hated.

Writing truthful fictions

“But I am Jacob,”  they cried, “I am God’s chosen one.  These others who prosper, they are Esau; therefore there must be some sin in their accomplishments, some error of ways.  Why would God have given them something and not given it to me?  They must have stolen it.  Let us ruthlessly analyze their lives and investigate their sin to draw our attention away from our craving of their successes and possessions.”  

The sin and shortcomings of others they could plainly see. Yet, they did not understand that it was their own reflection. They would never be guilty of coveting possessions of another.

 In the wilderness of this sin they wandered and moaned, “My needs have not been met, I cannot move forward.”  The perceived void became such a wound that they took to their beds, unable to care for others; yet ready always to receive the care of others like a dry thirsty sponge; never full enough to be squeezed out to slack the thirst of another. 

“Ah,” she said, “you are very subtle in your covetousness, for you are an opportunist. Not knowing how to create your own opportunities, you await the downfall of your lords and superiors, thinking their demise to be God’s provision for you. 

You see their errors, sometimes their out and out deceitfulness, and you watch their downward spiral with sheepish anticipation, knowing the position, title, and yes, money will fall to you. It creates a tension within you, for you are merciful and sensitive. You mourn and agonize over the Achilles heal, the mote in the eye of your fellows, you feel their pain as they fall and you are mortified by the guilty joy that too soon overtakes you as you see what good will come of it for you.”

Life Lessons Learned While Walking

When you start out walking late, a few clouds can be a good thing. There’s a metaphor for life in there somewhere, I think.

Cloudy days held mystery and intrigue when I was young, but it seems the older I get, the more I love sunshine. Nevertheless, in the heat of summer, a few clouds are a good thing.  Here’s something else I learned while walking:  the most beautiful path is not the easiest. Put differently, just because a path is the most beautiful, and in taking it you have made a right choice, it does not follow that the path will be easy.  Indeed, my beautiful path this morning was quite rocky and difficult and even dangerous for the inexperienced or unprepared.

 I had chosen a new location to add variety to my walk. Only one other car was parked at the trailhead and I did not see another human for the next 60 minutes. The solitude was welcome. One thing I have learned about walking is that it is a component of my mental, emotional and spiritual health as well as my physical health. Often, when I walk, I have a specific question or challenge in mind.  Today’s question was a choice: 

Do I want to be a writer strongly enough to be willing to live with my parents until I establish an income; verses; Do I value my independence and solitude deeply enough to warrant seeking a job that steals from my writing time, but insures my independence?

 Straightaway, as I began the ascent of Eagle’s Wing, my thoughts started coalescing, forming sentences and turning phrases that would become chapters in my book, explanations and histories for why my characters are created thus. A couple of short commentaries, essays of human interest fell into place. I could hardly wait to get back to my desk and write while the ideas were fresh. Was this, then, the answer I was seeking? 

The trail veered ever farther toward the left, then righted, and took me through beautiful desert boulders and vegetation; along a ridge still cooled by sunrise shadows.  Soon, I began to wonder if my question was moot. Perhaps it did not matter whether I wrote or lived independently. Perhaps I would never get back. My writing inspiration took a turn toward children of Israel wandering in the wilderness. It turns out Eagle’s Wing is not a loop.  Neither is Holy Cross. It might take me an extra 10 miles to get back to my car.

I am usually obedient to the posted signs. Not once did I leave the trail.  Nor did I ever lose sense of where my car was located.  It’s just that the trail did not go directly to the car. The terrain as the crow flies was much too rugged to traverse.

In order to stay on the trail, one must walk forward, or retrace the steps taken in error.  This too, is a metaphor for life. When you mount up on eagle’s wings, do not expect to take a leisurely soar and boomerang to square one.  Nor is the way of the cross circular.

Freudian Slip?

If someone had asked why I was walking at 7:30 this morning, my ready answer was, “To seek the will of God; and I don’t care how long it takes me to find it.”  To meditate, to pray, to seek the will of a Higher Power is the eleventh of the 12 steps. It is a tenent of Faith; as is asking for the energy to carry through on the guidance received.

What did I mean, exactly, by the phrase, “I don’t care how long it takes me to find it?”  Am I really patient enough to plod onward, composed and serene for an undefined period of time?  Or was I subconsciously thinking, “Take your time God.  I’m in no hurry to know your will.  I’m not done mucking about here, not quite ready to focus on moving forward?”

What I intended, was that I was prepared to walk until I got clarity.  I was hoping for clarity for a lifetime.  What I got was clarity for a day.  Perhaps that is enough.

Blue Out of Anything

Artists will tell you that blue is one of the primary colors, you mix it in different amounts with the other primary colors (red and yellow), to make more colors. In other words, you start with blue, you don’t make blue. 

I know better.  I can make blue out of anything. For instance, I am likely to become blue if I get too cold; or if I am overheated. I can get blue by passing a mirror and noticing I have gained weight. I also get blue when I skip meals to loose weight.  Yes, I can get blue from being too hot, too cold, too fat, too thin, overworked or bored.  My blues can come from a lack of exercise, or from over exertion. I can even get blue over the absence of dessert; or from eating too much sugar.

I sometimes try to get rid of blue by mixing in a lot of people.  Even then, I can get blue from being alone in a crowd. Come to think of it, maybe the artists are right.  Maybe I started out blue.  Perhaps it is time to mix in some red and yellow and to enjoy the greens, purples and oranges.

A Parable

I am resolved not to haul anyone else up the mountain. Not to carry them, not to drag them, just to go up the mountain myself; baggage free. “What do you mean, you will not carry anyone up the mountain?” asked my pastor. “Let me tell you a parable,” I replied.

When I was young I saw a beautiful mountain in the distance. I could tell by the way it was shaped, where its craggy rocks were and where the purples met the greens, that this was my mountain.  This was the mountain I was meant to climb in life. When I was still in the single digits I began to prepare to climb that mountain. My parents chose the proper instructors. I trained diligently.  I received accolades for my progress and criticism to address my weaknesses.  By and by I set out on my journey toward the base of the mountain. When I had gone some distance and was becoming stronger and quite adept at orienteering, I met a tall stranger wandering in a high mountain meadow. I did not know at the time that he was wandering.  It was a busy meadow, profuse with wild flowers and the buzzing of bees. Several trails converged, crossed and separated in the meadow. The stranger was pleased to walk with me for awhile. When we came to the final fork in the road, I bid the young man adieu and headed confidently up my chosen path. “Wait a minute!” called the stranger, “I am coming with you!”

“Oh, have you trained for this mountain, too?” I asked in wonderment. “I haven’t had any specific training for this particular path,“ he replied, “I just have a feeling I should go here, and, as you can see, I am genetically fit to climb this mountain.  I want to climb this mountain.  In this case, desire is the important thing.”  We traveled together for quite some time.  He was an amiable companion   Because he was tall and muscular, he often led and blazed the trail.  Once or twice we disagreed when I took the initiative and started off in a different direction.  “Come back!” he called, “Let’s go this way!”

“The map I received in my training says this is the right way,” said I.

“What does it matter?” he argued.  “You don’t have to stick with the map. Maps are often rigid and tell you only one way.  I can make a short cut through this brush in no time and make a new path for us.”  The second time disagreement arose he just said, “Well, if you will give me the map, then I can lead us the right direction. I’ll give it back by the time you need it.”  A few days later he asked for my compass too, saying, “I’m not sure which way is north.”  I showed him how to read the map and use the compass.

At night we sat around the campfire watching the flickering flames.  “I want to be standing on top the mountain already, waving at people,” he sighed wistfully.  “I wonder if the extra weight of this compass is slowing me down?  The map seems to be taking us the long way around.”

 I woke early, but waited around for him the next morning.  Somehow it just seemed normal that we travel on together.  He was slow waking up and when he rose it was with a limp. “My knee is starting to bother me, will you lend me your walking stick?”  “Good thing I waited,” I thought, passing it over. I hadn’t used it for the past five miles anyway. He wanted to stop walking early that night and when we turned aside to a grassy place he slumped heavily to the ground and fell fast asleep.  Next morning it was hard to wake him. I shook his shoulder. “The sun’s almost up!” I said, “Time to get going.” He groaned.  “I just want to camp here for awhile and rest.”  “The season will end before we reach the top if we don’t move forward!” I said, turning toward the path. “You can’t just go off and leave me!” he cried. I hoisted him to his feet and half dragged, half carried him slowly up the path.  We advanced 200 yards that day and it was rough going because he was twice my size and he kept saying that since I wasn’t strong enough to carry him, I wasn’t really trained to climb that mountain. When it was morning again, I was unsuccessful in arousing him. I knew it was time for me to move on, alone.

That is why I am resolved to climb the mountain myself, without baggage, alone if necessary, and certainly not carrying or dragging someone else.

“But, how can you possibly finish the mountain alone?” asked my pastor. “He has the compass.”

“I will use discernment.  I have years of orienteering training in how to tell direction.  It is a gift.”  

“But, he is a man, he is strong and – he has the map.”

“He used it for toilet paper some days ago.”

“Is that love?”

“Him using my map for toilet paper?”

“No. Is it Love to say you will not stick with him and carry him up the mountain?”

“Yes.  It is love to allow anyone with two good legs to hike the mountain for himself without my doing it for him. “

“What about putting others first?”

“By putting others first, do you mean hiking their mountain for them? Carrying them up instead of hiking my own mountain? Or making sure they get to the top of the mountain ahead of me, even if I have to carry, drag or push them?”

“Well, it just sounded harsh and unloving, kind of selfish when you said you would hike your own mountain,” commented the onlooker.

“If I do not love the God of the Universe enough to obey and climb my mountain as instructed, if I neglect my mountain in the name of putting others first and hoisting them up a random mountain; where does that leave me? That is not love.  That is merely self-sacrifice.  Love, according to C.S. Lewis, is the greater virtue.”

“Yes, but often love demands self-sacrifice,” admonished the chider.

 “Who am I to decide, and control through my aiding and abetting, which mountain is someone else’s mountain to climb?  I asked.

Can I, a mere mortal, outthink God and decide what is best? Is it putting God in first place to say, ‘Oh, sorry I didn’t get done what you asked me to do, God.  Someone else wasn’t able to do their job right, so I went over to help.  That’s okay, isn’t it?  Because, I did get them up a mountain, even if I didn’t go up the one you placed in my heart.’”

The pastor shook his head, a bit perplexed and deep in thought. The chider raised her eyebrows at the passion in my voice. The onlooker rejoiced to learn what sages from other ages have written. Shakespeare penned, “To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.“

One greater than Shakespeare said, “Love your neighbor as yourself. “  If I do not love myself enough to climb the mountain God gave me to climb, how will I ever know what it is to truly love my neighbor?

Always and Forever

A year ago I moved into this lovely townhouse.  Now, I am moving out.  The walls are bare, the rooms nearly empty.  All that remains is a tote of cleaning supplies-and the computer from which I am writing.  I’ve been dragging my feet about packing and moving. My life has been wonderful here.  Every room arranged and decorated just the way I like it, in colors that comfort me.  To take my daily walk, all I need do is lace on shoes, lock the door and dash down the drive to public lands. Here, within these walls, I found out who I am when I’m alone.  Finally, I had come to a place that met all the criteria on my list.  It was truly a gift.

 But, a gift does not always last forever! Toys break, clothes wear out, places of employment change.  My job, too, was a gift-a place to give of my passion and talent and receive in return the delighted smiles of children.  That job, gift though it was, is over.  Jobs don’t last for ever. So, I will move on.

Always and forever are very important words for parents and children, lovers, and for theologians and philosophers. Although we may allow for circumstances, locations, and methods to change; our security comes from knowing that Love will remain. But, a job or a gift?  Those are not for always and forever.

When I was young, adults used to ask me, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I gave it an inordinate amount of thought. From the questions, and other events I observed in my life I concluded that who you are and who you are meant to be was one of those once in a lifetime, momentous decisions, researched and decided on by the approximate age of 20.  After that, as I understood it, you pursued that goal with everything in you for the next 45 years, retiring at about 65.  What you were meant to be was your “calling.”  Though you had to seek arduously to find it, it was pre-determined by your creator.  Woe to you if you could not hear your call, or if you strayed from it for the remaining productive years of your adult life.

Because I understand the value to our souls and our society of  “always and forever,” and because I am dependable, conscientious, and aim for integrity; I tend to apply the always and forever commitment to other lesser things in my life. These might be my job, my goals and hobbies, my house, or even a material gift.   I just don’t know when to let go, because somehow, I thought the gift, the providence of that material thing or job, was forever.

Today, as I move forward into the unknown and the next segment of my life, I will release the job and the townhouse. I will smile, and daydream, and allow myself to be excited about my future.  In this ever changing world, one never knows what fabulous gift or dream employment may be just around the corner.

Winds of Change

Finally, the relentless wind;

Became a lover and a friend,

And I enjoyed a deeply spiritual walk last eventide.

And now, my thoughts turn, unschooled, unbidden;

Toward newer ports of call and charts unknown;

My future, hidden.

Yet, serene, I bask, a smile lurks on my face;

As I pursue the turning round the nearing corner.

Cherry, 2010

Putting One Foot in Front of the Other, Hiking for Life!